


We Were Born Sick

by Milieu



Series: 33 Day Guro Challenge [33]
Category: Bandom, Black Veil Brides, Wretched and Divine: The Story of the Wild Ones - Black Veil Brides (Album)
Genre: 33 Day Guro Challenge, Alternate Universe - Cults, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: The Destroyer muses on life and morality.





	We Were Born Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 33 - Beaten Up/Bruising
> 
> Also a direct companion to "The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To", the first story in this series. The title comes from "Take Me To Church" by Hozier as well.

It's not easy to be moral in this day and age.

There are temptations, material and spiritual. There is corruption. There are things that you convince yourself are harmless, as long as you never see their consequences. There are those who know the truth but who would rather keep their eyes and ears shut than face it.

Some can be convinced to listen to reason. Some will go along out of fear or curiosity. Those who are touched by the words of the Prophet do their best to shed the rot that the modern world has stained them with.

Others...

The sound of a fist striking skin and bone, followed by a body hitting the floor and a moan of pain are sounds the Destroyer is used to, just as he is used to the feverish, passionate words of the Prophet. The feeling of his knuckles bruising from the contact is so familiar that he barely recognizes it anymore, much like the cool, impassive gaze of the Deviant as he waits for the Destroyer to finish subduing the latest heretic among their flock.

The Prophet has his visions and his sermons. The Deviant has threats and sharp, shiny tools. The Mystic has his strange, impenetrable connections with the things others can't see. The Mourner has the voices and songs of the vengeful dead.

The Destroyer has his fists.

Sometimes, when they won't be converted or cowed, you just have to beat the corruption out of them.

He can feel the Deviant getting impatient, as well as the sting of broken skin on his knuckles where he had cut himself open on the heretic's tooth during one blow or another.

"Well?" The Deviant's voice is expectant.

The slumped figure on the floor tries and fails to rise. They're not done here, but the Destroyer is.

He grabs the heretic by the back of the shirt and drops them unceremoniously at the Deviant's feet.

"All yours, man," he says with a grin.

The night is far from over.


End file.
